An Arabian Marriage. Lynne Graham

as nanny to Ben, Freddy had tried everything to encourage that maternal bond to develop and had even taken advice from a psychologist on her cousin’s behalf. But nothing had worked. Erica had continued to demonstrate little more interest in Ben than she might have done in a strange child passing her by in the street.

      ‘As you can’t contact the father, you need to contact the authorities and notify them about the situation,’Ruth advised. ‘It’s unfortunate that Erica didn’t simplify matters by leaving a will but, naturally, once her solicitor has sorted out her estate, everything will go to Ben as well as that continuing income.’

      ‘Ben’s going to be a very rich little boy,’ Freddy muttered heavily. ‘I expect people will queue up to adopt him and social services are bound to look for a family that are already wealthy in their own right. What hope have I got against that kind of competition? I’m single, currently unemployed and I’m only twenty-four—’

      ‘You’re also that child’s only known relative and you’ve been with him since birth.’ But Ruth Coulter spoke as if neither fact that might support the adoption application that the younger woman was determined to make was a source of satisfaction to her. ‘I wish you’d never got involved, Freddy. I can’t approve of an unmarried woman of your age taking on such a burden—’

      ‘Ben’s not a burden.’Freddy’s chin took on a stubborn tilt.

      ‘You’ve had no life of your own since you got tangled up with Erica’s problems.’ The older woman’s disapproval was unconcealed. ‘She used you quite shamelessly to take care of her responsibilities—’

      ‘I was paid an excellent salary to look after Ben,’ Freddy reminded her defensively.

      ‘For weeks on end without a break? Day and night and weekends too?’Ruth enquired drily. ‘Your cousin took advantage of your good nature and it’s no wonder you’re now thinking of that little boy as though he was your son. For the past two years, he might as well have been!’

      Studying Freddy’s now flushed and guilty face, Ruth compressed her lips. She had once lived next door to the Sutton family and she had known both Erica and Freddy as children. Children who had been forever joking about the foolish fact that they both had the exact same name—Frederica. Their fathers had been brothers and both had named their daughters in honour of a spinster great-aunt in the forlorn hope that they would eventually be enriched by that piece of flattery. As, at that time, the two families had lost touch with each other, the coincidence had not been discovered until years later. When Erica’s parents had been killed in a car accident, Freddy’s widowed father had taken in his niece and brought her up with his own daughter.

      But who could ever have dreamt that that generous act could have ended up working to Freddy’s detriment? In Ruth’s opinion, even as a child Erica had been dishonest and precocious, essentially shallow in nature but capable of exercising great charm when it suited her to do so. Ruth had not been impressed by Erica’s highly coloured stories of her late parents’ cruelty towards her, but a lot of people had been impressed even though there had been no proof whatsoever to back up her claims. Within the space of six months, Freddy had been the less favoured child in her own home, for Freddy had never been one to push herself forward or flatter.

      Having always been very fond of the younger woman, who had lost her own mother at an early age, Ruth had not been as sorry as she felt she should have been when Erica had run off with a neighbour’s husband. Ruth had hoped that without her cousin around to hog the limelight, Freddy would grow in confidence. After all, Freddy was a pretty girl but, having had her self-esteem punctured by Erica at a sensitive age, she regarded herself as plain. Ruth was fond of little Ben as well but she was a pragmatic thinker. She did not want to watch Freddy sacrifice her youth and her freedom just to raise Erica’s son. Conscious of Ruth’s concerned disapproval and discomfited, Freddy left rather earlier than usual and caught the tube back to her late cousin’s apartment. For an instant, entering the spacious hall which gave only a tiny taste of the opulence yet to come, Freddy felt spooked. At any minute she expected Erica to drawl from the drawing-room, ‘Is that you, Freddy darling? I have the most horrible hangover. My appetite will need tempting tonight…or do you think I ought to settle for a hair of the dog that bit me? Do you think sobering up was the mistake?’

      Her eyes stung with tears afresh. She had known Erica’s faults, had often despaired over her cousin’s self-destructive habits, but had continued to love her like a sister. In the right mood, Erica had been tremendous fun to be around and if she had been around a lot less than Freddy had wished since Ben’s birth, who was to blame for that?

      The Arab Prince whom Erica had insisted had fathered Ben? No, Freddy hadn’t believed that particular story, most especially not when Erica had got really carried away and had added that one day her child’s father would be a king! So she had never shared that colourful tale with Ruth. It was just possible, however, that Ben’s father had been a rich Arab tycoon, the old geezer with the yacht and the taste for floating floozies whom Erica had been equally indiscreet about mentioning. But a royal prince…no way!

      ‘It’s time for your bath,’she told Ben, leading him through to the bathroom off the nursery.

      ‘Boats!’Ben exclaimed with satisfaction, rushing to gather up the plastic collection of toys in the string bag hanging from a hook. ‘Me play boats.’

      ‘And then we’ll have supper.’

      ‘Love you…’ Ben wrapped two small arms tight round Freddy’s knees and hugged her with all his might.

      Her eyes prickled like mad and she was furious with herself. She was going to lose Ben. Waiting in hope of a helpful response coming from that stuffy Swiss bank had been foolish. There was no point kidding herself or trying to avoid the next step of notifying the authorities so that they could make legal decisions on Ben’s behalf. But if only it hadn’t been for all that wretched money! However, just as swiftly, Freddy told herself off for resenting the existence of the funds that would enable Ben to have the very best of everything as he grew up. Why didn’t she just face it? There was no hope of her being allowed to retain custody of Ben.

      She was tucking the little boy into his cot when the phone rang and startled her. Once when Erica had been in residence it had rung off the hook at all hours but as word of her cousin’s death had slowly spread the phone had grown steadily more silent.

      Answering it, she murmured, ‘Yes?’

      ‘I wish to speak to Miss Frederica Sutton,’ stated a dark masculine voice with an unmistakable foreign accent.

      ‘I’m Miss Sutton, but which—?’ Miss Sutton are you asking for, she meant to add.

      ‘Please make yourself available at ten tomorrow morning for my visit. I wish to discuss Benedict’s future. I warn you that if any other party is present in the apartment prior to my arrival, the visit will not take place.’

      ‘I beg your p-pardon?’ Freddy stammered in her astonishment at those instructions, but even as she spoke the caller concluded the call.

      Frowning, she began to put together what she had been told. Had she just spoken to Ben’s father? Who else would wish to discuss Ben’s future with her? But how had he found out that Erica had died? For goodness’ sake, he might even be in regular contact with some friend of Erica’s! Or possibly her letter to that Swiss bank had discreetly been passed on even though the institution had officially refused to help. Anyway, what did it matter?

      By the sound of it, it very likely was Ben’s father who was coming to speak to her tomorrow. Who else would be so concerned that there should be nobody else present during their meeting? Who else would demand and require such discretion? Although if that arrogant-sounding character who shot out demands without hesitation was a ‘scared’ married man, she would not have liked to meet a confident one!

      Freddy went to bed that evening in a state of growing anxiety as she tried to imagine what plans the man might have for his secret son. She tossed and turned and wondered whether she ought to wear her nanny uniform and parade her excellent credentials in childcare in the hope of making